


Clockwork

by unfortunate17



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Liam just wants to understand him, M/M, Zayn has wings, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:25:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfortunate17/pseuds/unfortunate17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genetic engineering in humans, though declared illegal worldwide, wasn’t always forbidden. In fact, Zayn is a living example - wings sprouting from his back and an infinite number of languages ready for use on his quick, tongue. His boyfriend, Liam, brings back all the painful parts of his life with a father who worked on the Human Engineering Project, possessing a sort of fascination with these “hybrids.” Zayn hasn’t told him and doesn’t plan on telling him. But as he learns, there’s no way to run from your past - or identity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clockwork

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to so many people for helping me finish this - I could not have done this without Jesse (jmcats) and bradforbadass. Thank you to them for reading this monstrosity and encouraging me (see: abusing me) to finish this XD LOVE YOU!
> 
> AND TO SANYA WHO TOOK THE TIME TO MAKE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ART I COULD EVER HOPE FOR. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!

When Zayn first sees Liam, it's because Liam's lost his way, come into the wrong shop and found all the wrong people.

"Sorry," he mumbles, brown eyes lilting at the floor, dragging a sheepish shoe across the floor when he startles Zayn, coming in quickly through the repair shop's old door, "I'm sorry. Do you know where the local pub is?"

Zayn glances, fleeting up at him from where he's winding back the hands of the wristwatch in his palms, "You got a name?" His wings quiver under his thick winter coat. Luckily they're not quite large enough to be seen through the material yet and the lack of heating in the shop gives him the perfect excuse to keep them hidden.

Liam blinks at him and Zayn can see the exact moment in which Liam takes him in, "Liam," he says and his cheeks flush a warm color, "Liam Payne."

Zayn's mind burns with the word and tells him that he'll be needing that name, that it'll be of great value to him one day, "Not you," he mutters, "The pub. Have you got a name for the pub?"

Liam's face flushes darker, "No, I haven't. Me mates just said it was the local one. D'ya have any idea?"

Zayn shakes his head, watches as Liam deflates, and sets the balance screws to fit the regulator.

"Okay," Liam sounds resigned, "Okay, I'm sorry to bother you. See you," a look at his employee badge, "Zayn."

Zayn raises a shoulder in shrug, "Yeah."

His heart thuds against his ribs when Liam turns to walk away and his fingers slip on the winding, "Hey, Liam."

Liam turns, "Yeah?"

"Why don't I show you were it is?" He throws a significant look with his eyes, "That okay?"

Liam smiles, "Yeah, yeah that's perfect."

____

Zayn's mother was born with wings. These great, white, feathered things that he remembers wrapped around him, cocooned, safe and warm. She'd smile, pet the little stubs on the backs of his shoulder blades and tell him that he was her special little boy and that one-day, his wings would grow to become bright and beautiful and filled with love.

And so they were. In a little apartment just outside the edge of town where Tricia would rise every morning, dutifully at 5:45 am, and open the repair shop below that'd been in their family for generations. A little nook of a thing really, with yellowing walls and rusted hinges, that barely made them any money. But Tricia was never concerned about the money.

"Tell me," she said one day to a wide-eyed Zayn, "Can money buy me a better son? A more beautiful home? A more lovely family?"

 _But Amma,_ Zayn says, _you don't have a family._

And Tricia laughs, eyes crinkling in a way that Zayn's familiar with seeing in the mirror. It's not the first time he's noticed how similar to her he actually is, "We all have families, Zayn. Everybody comes from someone. Everybody has someone in their hearts and minds. _Everybody_ , you hear me, Zayn?"

 _Yes Amma._ His voice is soft, reprimanded, but Zayn knows how to wheedle his mother and cut short her lectures.

"Good," she says then, sternly, looking him hard in the eyes, "Now it's time you learn the difference between the center wheel and the escapement wheel, young man."

____

When Zayn is thirteen, genetic engineering in humans is outlawed worldwide.

He stares at the TV screen, one hand adjusting the antenna (because Tricia had insisted on an old-fashioned model) while rows upon rows of engineered embryos are tossed into biohazard waste. He feels slightly hollow. Slightly out of place with his growing wings and quick tongue.

His mother, on the other hand, looks stricken, but instead of telling him why, they set out mourning candles on their patio porch while she prays.

The firelight flashes on their faces in the darkness and it's mellow and sad but Zayn doesn't know what has just happened.

But the fall, it will be beautiful.

___

That's what Liam Payne, aged twenty, part time sound engineering student is. He has these lips, and these hands, and this way of spewing nonsense like it's the new rage that has Zayn fascinated. He's light and airy and filled with a type of openness that's blinding. Sometimes, Zayn thinks it hurts to look at him, like the way it hurts to look at the sun. Or a supernova.

"How many languages do you know," Liam slurs one night, pressed tightly into Zayn's embrace, loose and lazy and stated.

"A lot," Zayn whispers back, his quick, quick tongue always eager to spill (words, love, confessions) to the man in his arms, "What do you want to hear?"

"Anything. Anything at all. Just talk, Zayn."

Zayn nods, watching as his grip presses the beginnings of bright bruises on Liam's pale back, "J'étais un enfant sans enfance."

There's a moment of silence in which Zayn can almost hear the gears spinning in Liam's head.

"French?"

He hides his face at Liam's question, because if he didn't, the shame would crush him. Beat down on his back, force him to his knees, and spike knives through his ribs, "My mother. She - she could speak _everything._ " _And so can I_ , he adds in his head, _it's written into me._

Liam's quiet for a long moment, mulling Zayn's French to the best of his abilities, "What happened to her?"

Zayn hums, "The same thing that's going to happen to all of us."

Liam pulls back to stare at his face and he's so beautiful, Zayn wants to cry. There are marks on his collarbones, coin-sized from Zayn's mouth and fingers and it makes him look dirty, filthy, and unclean - the same way that Zayn feels, "I'm sorry," Liam mumbles.

Zayn laughs, but it's a hollow thing, brittle and rusted, "She didn't _die_ Liam."

"Oh."

"She just - drifted away. Lost touch. I can't remember the last time I saw her properly," he sighs, tears pricking the insides of his eyes. His back hurts at the thought.

Liam kisses him sweetly, eyes pure and smile shy, "I'm still sorry."

Zayn smiles because he knows Liam, in his wise and foolish ways, is as genuine as one person can possibly be, "Don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault." Zayn smiles, "Nothing's ever your fault, Li."

"I know," Liam says to him, rubbing his shoulders soothingly and ignoring his attempts to lighten the mood, "But I still wish things were different for you. You're a good person, Zayn and you deserve good things."

Zayn snuffles, "I've got you, haven't I?" His back burns though - blood and steel and pain still fresh on his body. He doesn't know how truthful the words sound even though that's exactly what they are - the truth.

Liam laughs, "What a tragedy it would be otherwise, yeah?"

 _It would,_ Zayn thinks, _who else would I blame?_

____

In the pub, the lights are low and there's smoke in the air. An inane, out of date game's playing on the television, but everybody seems to have picked sides already. One half of the room shouts for one team and the other shouts for the other team while Zayn doesn't really know either of them. But he knows that he'll probably end up cheering for which ever side Liam does.

Liam opens the door for him, lets him walk in first, and unconsciously leans into him, cheeks pushing up with a warm smile. It's been a long, long time since Zayn's met anyone like him.

When they slide into a booth, next to each other rather than across the table, there's a long awkward silence because Zayn doesn't really like to talk and Liam obviously doesn't know what to talk about.

Eventually, Liam clears his throat, "My mates aren't here."

Zayn snorts, "I know."

Liam's eyes crinkle, "You knew which one I was talking about didn't you?"

Zayn hums noncommittally, "Might've known a little more than I let off."

But Liam only laughs and it's honest and pure and Zayn doesn't know how he does it but it makes his heart thud against his ribs. It's probably why, at the end of the night, Zayn leans into him and mutters, "Can I fuck you?"

Liam's eyes widen for a minute in shock before he understands what exactly is happening. He's turning into him, then, limbs loose. "You can kiss me," he corrects.

Zayn chuckles, "Figured as much, yeah." He'slaughed more in this night than he has in years. Bradford seems to suck the very soul out him and his mum sometimes.

Funnily enough, despite his appearance, Liam kisses slowly, like he doesn't really know what he's doing, but his hands are firm and warm on Zayn's back. His lips are chapped and he's nervous but he's the best thing Zayn's had in years - sweet and sticky and pretty under the blue lighting.

Liam pulls back first, licking over his mouth, but Zayn keeps them pressed tight, steeping their foreheads together. "Hi," he mumbles.

Zayn smiles, tongue pressing against the back of his teeth, "Hello."

Liam's eyes dart between both of his, soul-crushing, "You can - that too, if you want. Later though. If you take me out again. Deal?"  
Zayn takes a shuddering breath and pitches himself off the deep end. There's no sign of self-preservation anywhere, "Deal."

____

Zayn doesn't get to fuck Liam or take him out again, terrified of what it means to take of his shirt in front of a boy he barely knows.

He wonders whether Liam would bury his hands in the feathers, ruffling them and send tingles of shock down Zayn's back or whether Liam would take one look at them and shove him out the door, slamming it behind him with a warning to never come back.

It's not a risk he's willing to take because humans - humans are all the same. It's a difficult lesson that he's learned, but Bradford has taught it to him well.

Liam leaves two weeks later, but drops by to see Zayn before he goes. He swallows, eyes averted and mumbles about going back to London and how happy he was to meet Zayn and how he was so sorry he couldn't stay longer.

Zayn listens to him talk with a sick feeling in his stomach that's completely inappropriate because he's been on one date with this boy that resulted in one kiss. They're not married or anything, but he can't deny the fact that something fluttering in his chest stops beating because it knows that Zayn's probably never going to find someone like that again.

"Call me," Liam mumbles, and shoves a napkin in Zayn's hand. There are numbers signed with Liam's name and a smiley face. Zayn already knows that this is probably typical Liam Payne.

"Yeah," Zayn smiles, "I will."

Liam waves goodbye, gives him another kiss on the cheek, and steps out of the shop, little bell ringing above the door in his wake.

Zayn resolves to research universities in London, but more importantly, resolves not to go until he's sure that nothing will stand between him and Liam - especially not something that he has to irritatingly keep hidden under his shirt.

____

Once, when Zayn was seventeen, he fixed a watch for a very important lady. At least, he thought she was important because she had diamonds on her neck and designer labels stamped into her clothes and handbags.

When she'd whirled in impatiently, banging shut the doors of his mother's little shop behind her, Zayn had thought for a split second that she'd made a mistake. Instead, he watches from behind the old counter as she marches up to him with her curled hair and wash of expensive perfume.

"Morning," she drawls. Southern, Zayn realizes with a start. Southern United States here in his little shop.

"Hello," he says back, cautious.

She eyes him for a minute and then her eyes fall to where his growing wings peeked out of the holes he'd cut in his shirt. He flushes at the inspection. He'd have hidden them if he knew someone was going to be coming in.

"You're a hybrid," she states, but there's no venom in her tone.

Zayn relaxes his shoulders, "Yeah," he mutters, "yeah I am."

The woman shrugs, not looking the least bit bothered, "Alright, sweetheart, I've got a job for you - a special job. You see, this," she pulls out a gold incrusted watch set with what Zayn is sure are diamonds, "belongs to my lovely husband. Be a dear and make sure it runs again. And don't go lazing off with it because I'm fixin' to leave soon."

He takes the wristwatch from her gently and clicks off the back, inspecting the inner contents. He nods, "Right. I've just got to replace some of the stuff in here. I'll get it back to you in a few hours if you're willing to pay an advance." She waves off the money casually, reaching into her bag for a roll of bills. Zayn swallows back a twinge of jealously, "Right." He glances at the medley of grandfather clocks Tricia had set around the shop, "Be back around five, yeah."

She tips her head at him, "Thank you. See that watch's got a story - belonged to my late husband actually. We're getting ready for his funeral in a few days and I'd really like it fixed."

Zayn nods, turning the watch over in his hands, and as the woman leaves he catches sight of the expensive back that he'd just clicked off. There are words engraved into the gold plating.

_“Know that love is truly timeless.”_

______

It's a relatively warm, summer morning - or as warm as a shitty part of East London gets in July, when it all goes to fuck - so to speak.

They're sitting in Zayn's dingy apartment but it doesn't seem all that dingy because Liam's laying back against Zayn's chest on his sofa, hands stroking through his hair and peppering kisses under his jaw.

They've been quiet for so long that Zayn's nearly asleep, Liam's comforting heat against his body and his hands are pressing little patterns into Liam's back. Except when Liam begins to speak, the entire atmosphere shifts.

"Wings," Liam’s voice is awed, "some people have wings. D’ya imagine what that would be like? How amazing it’d be? Just think -" He trails off in amazement, shaking his head. 

And Zayn swallows, laughing hollowly. He can still feel the blood and steel against his back.

Liam's hands stop raking through his hair and when Zayn looks down, his eyes are huge, "What's so funny?"

"Just - those people - they're - " Zayn shrugs, "Isn't that illegal now, anyway."

Liam sighs, "Yeah, yeah it is - but I wish I could've met someone with them. Like, could they fly? It's so incredible, Zayn, don't you think so? There's hardly any of them around and most of them hide - dunno why to be honest because - "

"How'd you feel," Zayn interrupts loudly, body tensing even when Liam runs a soothing hand across his stomach, "When every fucking person stared at you and pulled their kids away? When people crossed the streets to get away from you? When nobody would hire you so you'd get stuck in a shitty one-room for the rest of your life? That's why they hide, Liam. They hide from people who don't take the time to understand them, but spend years trying to isolate them."

There's a long moment of silence and Zayn falls into himself, ashamed.

"I - " Liam lets out a breath, "I don't know what to say."

Something chills through Zayn's bones and he clears his throat, "There was - was - this one lad and his mum back home. They - worked in this shop near my house and people were _shit_ to them. So one day, he just sort of - well, he left. No one's really seen him after that."

Liam's mouth pulls down, "Well that's horrible. I mean - I'd think they were gifts, you know."

Zayn laughs bitterly, "The world fears what it doesn't know, Liam. And hybrids? Well the world doesn't know shit about them."

Liam shudders and Zayn pulls him closer, fear creeping up into his veins, "I'm sorry for shouting," he whispers, "But I just - bad memories you know."

"I know," Liam's voice is muffled in his shirt. He's silent for a second and Zayn knows he can probably hear his pounding heartbeat, "Zayn, calm down."

"Sorry," Zayn says gruffly, "Really bad memories."

"Well we don't have to talk about them," Liam soothes, "Just - why don't you. Say something again. In another language?"

Zayn takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. A part of him wants to break down right there but he knows he'll have to wait until Liam's left, "Aap khoobsurat ho, jaan."

Liam shakes his head in amazed disbelief, laughing lightly, "You're so brilliant. I don't even know what language that was but you do - you know so much. God, you're brilliant."

Zayn chokes, "Guess you can call it a gift, yeah?"

_____

"My dad's a Genetic Engineer," Liam tells him on their sixth date. Zayn's never dated anyone before so it's all new and wonderful and he's not really sure what he's doing but Liam seems to so he just goes along with it. "It's how I got into all that engineering stuff to be honest. Except I'm doing sound."

Zayn nods, mostly focused on the way Liam's mouth looks all red from him biting down on it and the way his cheeks flush from the cheap wine, "That's cool, yeah."

Liam snorts, "D'ya even know what sound engineering is?"

Zayn laughs into his food. They're not anywhere fancy, just the local diner because Zayn can't afford anything better and he's getting tired of Liam paying for their dates. "Making sound," Zayn says, simply and Liam cracks a smile at him.

They've been off for a while, Zayn withdrawing inwards as Liam hovers, afraid of going in and being pushed away.

"It's the _manipulation_ of sounds - artificial and real," Liam fumbles in his explanation, "Um-" he glances down into his lap and lights up, "Many audio engineers creatively use technologies to produce sound for film, radio, television, music, electronic products and computer games."

Zayn hides a smile, "I can see the phone in your hand," he chuckles, "The light's reflecting in your face."

Liam scowls at him good-naturedly and shoves the phone into the pocket of his jeans, "Well not everyone's as smart as you, Zayn."

Zayn rolls his eyes, "I'm leaving."

"But we just got here," Liam raises his eyebrows.

"Exactly," Zayn mutters drily, but it's not effective because his mouth is twitching upwards against his wish. It's ridiculously easy to slide back into comfortable banter with Liam, "And now I'm leaving. I don't enjoy your company, Liam. You're horrid."

Liam cradles his jaw in his hands, elbows on the table. He raises his eyebrows, "And yet here you are."

Zayn snorts. "Here I _was_ ," he corrects, but he makes no attempt to actually slide out of his side of the booth.  
Liam kicks his shin under the table and Zayn yelps, scowling as Liam smothers his laughter into the collar of his jacket. He smiles widely, shoulders shaking and eyes enthusiastic, "Well what about you then? Uni? Work?"

Zayn takes a mouthful of his burger, mind whirring, "I went to uni."

Liam nods for him to continue and Zayn squirms, uncomfortable, "I didn't finish though. Lost my - um - my scholarship during the second year and - had to drop out."

There's a moment of silence.

Then Liam smiles, no judgment in his eyes - no _what a waste of money and time._ "What were you studying?"

Zayn smiles a little sardonically, "Human Rights."

"Wow," Liam whistles lowly. He bites his lip shyly, "You make me feel a little stupid sometimes you know - but that's okay. Will you ever go back?"

Zayn shrugs, "Maybe."

But he's not making any promises.

_____

Zayn's happy. He honest to god is. He makes money by drawing political cartoons the way Liam instructs him to. Zayn's not good with words, despite the bountiful languages he's got spewing from his mouth - he leaves them up to Liam. And Liam fills in thought and speech bubbles with clever slogans about poverty, peace, sexism, and _speciesism._ (Zayn snaps at

him to stick to _fucking relevant issues_ when Liam picks the last).

Luckily, Liam doesn't question him on much. Unluckily, Zayn manages to get irrationally angry with him anyway.

They're cooking dinner on a Thursday night and Zayn is exhausted, graphite smearing the tips of his cheeks. Liam's stirring a pot of full of soup-from-a-can and teasingly hip-checking him very other minute.

Normally, it'd be cute. But tonight, Zayn just wants to be left alone.

So, the next time Liam shifts towards him, Zayn, being the asshole that he is, reaches out and smacks him away.

Liam moves away sharply and throws him a concerned look. He's not even bloody angry.

Zayn can't stand him sometimes.

"Zayn?" He sets the stove on a low simmer and turns to him, eyebrows pulled earnestly together, "Everything okay?"

Zayn grins forcibly, "Everything's absolutely perfect, babe, why the fuck would you think otherwise."

Liam flinches and Zayn hates that he can do this. Destroy Liam with a few words because he leaves all the soft parts of himself wide open and defenseless. Zayn's not sure if he admires him or thinks that Liam's the stupidest person to walk the earth. (The worst part is, Liam would actually agree with the second and twist his hands together before he'd ask if there was something he could do differently - do better.)

"Okay," Liam's voice is hoarse so he clears his throat. He gestures to the kitchen, "Um. I can. Finish up in here if you want. You should - you should get some rest, Zayn."

Zayn tries to keep the guilt out of his face and he's not sure if he succeeds, "Yeah. Yeah, sorry - just tired as fuck you know."

Liam smiles bravely, waveringly, "Course I know, Zayn. Course I know. Now - " he gives him a gentle push towards the couch, "Lie down. I'll let you know when I'm done."

Something akin to devastation settles under Zayn's skin, "Yeah, whatever." Liam doesn't say anything at his dismissive tone - he never does. And it manages to make Zayn curl into himself each time because Liam's incredibly perceptive and incredibly sweet and Zayn's a mix of admiration and jealousy for him.

Sometimes, even Liam calls him out on him, _I'm not sure if you're trying to make me feel better or worse here, but ok_ _ay_ _, Zayn, whatever you say._ And he sounds damn sincere when he says so.

Zayn hates him. Zayn loves him.

Mostly, Zayn feels like an alien around him.

_____

Alienation is a difficult theory for Zayn to accept.

He's never been a people person, but he's always wanted to be a people's person. Doesn't really care about other people, but wants their approval. Doesn't want their opinion, but values their thoughts.

(Essentially, when Zayn says _I don't care_ he really means _I don't want to care_.)

It was a dark night. Moonless, quiet, and his little apartment shone with nothing more than the reflection of Zayn's loneliness. Tangled webs of silence and self -loathing as he stands in front the mirror, bottom lip in between teeth as he prods his skin like he's a foreign specimen.

"Zayn?" Liam's voice is rough, sleep deprived, and lost, "What's wrong?"

Zayn twists the lock on the bathroom door open and slips off the light, "Nothing. Go back to bed."

There's a pitter-patter of soft footsteps against the wooden flooring and then Liam's stepping into the bathroom, sliding up and behind Zayn's back. "Hey."

Zayn's voice cracks, "Hi."

Liam rubs soothing circles into Zayn's shoulders, "Are we okay? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Zayn says gruffly, but his hands are shaking with the lie. His mum used to say peoples’ hands were maps of their souls. He remembers her hands like he held them yesterday - worn, withered, and strong, firm in their grip, gentle in their touch. He wonders what Liam's will feel like in twenty years. Whether he'll still hold Zayn's hands.

Because Zayn and Liam's hands don't fit together nicely. Zayn's are too small and he knows that when he squeezes too hard, the sharp bones in his knuckles dig into Liam's skin and make him wince. Liam doesn't let go though. But ,Liam's hands are too big - too large in the all-encompassing way they cover his own, smaller ones. So, no, they don't fit.

Zayn and Liam _make_ them fit.

Liam doesn't say anything for a long time, but he leans down to kiss the twin set of scars on Zayn's shoulder blades. Zayn shocks upright. They met properly in London just two months ago - there's no way Zayn's ready for that sort of thing yet. Not sure if he'll ever be ready to be honest, "What're you doing?"

Liam traces the silver line of skin, barely raised but starkly visible against the rest of Zayn's darker skin, "I love these marks."

Zayn flinches, "They're disgusting."

Liam laughs against his skin, "They tell a story. A story that, hopefully, you'll tell me someday."

"There's nothing to tell. They were an accident," Zayn whispers. His hands shake though and he knows that it hasn't slipped past Liam's attention. Liam, for all his humble, moderate, intelligence is possibly the most perceptive person Zayn has ever met. What's even better, is that Liam's perceptive enough to know when to push and when to leave things and let them come to him.

"Doesn't matter," Liam says adamantly, "I'd still like to know one day, when you're ready."

"Okay," Zayn mutters at the same time his ribs crack with the strain of carrying his secret to the grave.

_____

"Do you have a feather pillow?" Liam calls from the bedroom, "Because if you do, Malik, you've been holding out on me and I don't appreciate it. At all."

Zayn freezes from where he's picking up his things in the living room. (At Liam's request - see: demand - of course). "No. Why?" His voice is wound up, tight, and he tries to take deep breaths to ease the tension.

If Liam notices anything, he doesn't say. Instead Zayn gets a view of him, sticking his head around the corner with his hair mussed and eyes tired. Liam holds up a handful of white feathers, "Look like they could've come off a bird. They were in our _bed_."

Zayn's blood runs cold and his expression must be a sight to see because Liam's eyebrows pull downwards.

"Zayn? Everything ok?"

He shakes his head, rattling his thoughts. He'd honestly thought that he'd solved his problem for good. At least solved it enough to move on, forget what he used to be, and moved on to more ordinary existence.

"Yeah," Zayn mutters, turning back to scooping up the leftover coats and socks near the corner of the couch, "I've no clue about the feathers though."

Liam laughs lightly, but there's a pensive twist to his eyebrows, "If there is a feather pillow, Zayn, and you've been hoarding it, I will make you pay. I promise."

Zayn feels Liam come up behind him and slink his arms around his waist. He leans back, resting his head on Liam's shoulder, strong and sturdy, "I'll get you a feather pillow, babe."

Liam laughs then and his hands smooth up his stomach, sending tingles of shockwaves down Zayn's back, "No. No. Course not, Zayn. I was just messing about, you don't have to get me anything. Ever."

Zayn turns then, dropping his armful of things. He ignores Liam's squawk of protest at the action and grins blindingly, teasingly, up at him, "Because I'm all you need?"

Liam snorts, "You're more than I can deal with sometimes." He sighs, eyes flicking down to Zayn's mouth, "Are the feathers some sort of a prank?"

Zayn buries his face in Liam's neck so he can't see the lie spelled out on his face. Liam's incredibly perceptive, not much gets by him. Zayn doesn't know whether he hates that Liam can call out his shit or loves that Liam knows without words why he happens to be upset. He laughs, "Yeah. I - I was gonna leave them out on the front porch. Make you think something had died."

Liam slaps his shoulder, "You're a horrible person. How do you sleep at night?" His voice is transparent though and Zayn wants to kick himself for the awful story. Liam didn't buy it, but Liam never pushes.

"I sleep because of you," Zayn whispers then, baring his soft interior in a sudden flash of recklessness, "I love you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Liam clutches him tighter, but his hold is soft. Reverent.

Zayn's going to be sick.

______

Liam breaks his watch by dropping it down the flight of stairs in front of their apartment and Zayn stands to the side as he scrambles down to scoop up the shattered clock.

Liam looks at it mournfully, "That was my dad's watch." He gives Zayn a sad look, head cocked to one side and fringe falling in his eyes, "Was really pricey too - he's gonna kill me."

Zayn sighs and walks down the stairs. He takes the watch from Liam, careful to avoid the broken shards of glass, and inspects the face. The watch is still running, second hand moving to every beat in his chest - irregular heartbeat and all, "'s not too bad," he mumbles before he even realizes what he's saying, "need to replace the glass, probably need to pop the back off and get a new third wheel. But this can definitely be fixed."

Liam blinks at him for a minute and Zayn feels the color rise to his cheeks. He closes his eyes. "What?" he asks, defensively.

"Nothing," Liam's voice is quiet and he's smiling softly, "You fix watches, don't you? 's where we first met."

Zayn shrugs tiredly, "I _did_ _-_ at one point. Haven't forgotten everything yet."

"Zayn," Liam whispers and he leans forward to hug him tightly and for some mad reason Zayn feels the tears rise to his eyes.

"My mum taught me," he murmurs so softly that the sound is nearly lost in Liam's neck, " 's not much, but it's what she did for a living."

Liam leans back and gives him a look, "Not much? It's brilliant. What, did you own that little repair shop?"

"Something like that," Zayn shrugs, "But it's back in Bradford now isn't it? Dunno if it's still running even - haven't been back since I left."

"Maybe you could take me back sometime?" Liam's voice is hesitant because they're reaching dangerous territory now. Zayn doesn't talk about Bradford and Liam's learned over the months not to ask unless he wants to be shut out of the bedroom and shiver in the living room all night. "Just, you know - so I could see? Learn some new things?"

Zayn laughs, but it's not a pretty sound, "Yeah," he nods noncommittally and Liam knows it's a white lie, "Someday, maybe."

______

The thing is, Zayn doesn't know how to be affectionate. He'd been close with his mum before everything had changed but he's finding out that respecting and loving Liam is very different than the way he respected and loved Tricia.

Liam makes him feel alive, safe, warm, and content the same way his mum did. He wraps him in afghans and Zayn can almost feel the feathers of his mum's wings against his neck and around his shoulders. Liam is good - so good in fact that Zayn has trouble injecting himself with that much sweetness.

Liam initiates most of the contact because as much as Zayn likes to ask things like _Can I kiss you? Can I fuck you? Can I love you?_ it's Liam that has to follow through. It's Liam that has to lead him, teach him where to put his fingers and cock, teach him how to moan and whisper, teach him how to hold and angle Liam's hips so Liam enjoys it as much as Zayn does. And Zayn's an eager learner. He's always been good with his hands, fingers that are delicate and made for sliding into Liam's ass and mouth, hands that Liam begs for as he's flushed and wrecked, fingers reaching for Zayn's touch.

Sometimes, it scares him.

Liam gives and gives and gives and _gives_ until he's holding broken fragments of his heart, staring mournfully at the little he's got. But when he meets Zayn's eyes - looks at the large quantity of his heart in Zayn's hands, piled on top of Zayn's own heart which is still wholly in Zayn's own hands - they're never guilt inducing. Liam smiles and Zayn's world straightens. Spins on the correct axis.

It's just as easy for Zayn to thank him as it is to blame him.

______

They're in a park on a lazy Sunday afternoon and Liam's packed lunch, but forgotten a blanket so Zayn had taken to laying across him as he grumbled about _Zayn you need to remind me next time, okay?_

There are words written into Liam's skin, words that Zayn's mouth has spoken into his neck and heart. Liam embraces them as he embraces Zayn, strong hands, soft grip.

"Hey," Liam mutters then. He sounds afraid, "I want you to meet my parents - well my dad. I. Want that. Is that okay?"

Zayn freezes, head turning to bury himself into Liam's stomach, "Dunno. Do you want me there when you - you know."

"Yes," Liam breathes quickly, "Yes, please."

"Okay," he murmurs back as Liam leans down to kiss his temple, "Yeah, that'd be cool." He can feel Liam's smile against his skin and something flares inside Zayn. Making Liam happy makes him happy.

"He'll love you - I mean, I hope he does. He's never - never been homophobic or anything," Liam says and Zayn can't see him from where his face is buried in Liam's T-shirt, but he can almost imagine Liam's dopey, hesitant smile. He turns his face firmer into Liam's shirt to hide his widening smile.

"Of course," Zayn's voice is muffled, "He'll love me so much that your dad will wish I was his son instead."

He feels Liam chuckle, "Probably." And it'd be a joke - it really would, if it weren't for the way Liam's not joking, voice serious and steady like he's got no qualms about his father potentially loving Zayn more that he loves him. There's a white-hot feeling pooling in his stomach.

Liam nudges him and Zayn flips so he's on his back, shoulder blades digging into Liam's thighs. "Are you really okay with this?"

Zayn blinks and unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth, "I'm actually more than okay with this."

Liam smiles widely and leans down to kiss him. He tastes like the last thing he ate - a chocolate donut and Zayn hums in satisfaction. Liam laughs against his mouth then, and the kiss is a mess. Zayn sputters and pushes Liam back - the little shit's still chuckling, this time into the palm of his hand.

His eyes are crinkled and Zayn's heart swells too big for his chest. "Get it together, Payne," he deadpans.

Liam fails to smother his laughter, "Sorry. That tickled."

Zayn rolls his eyes fondly and looks back up, shielding his eyes against the sunlight when he notices Liam's no longer looking at him. He follows his gaze and instead Liam's looking at a little boy, aged about ten, staring at them with his mouth open.

Zayn scowls at the same time Liam smiles and waves. "Hello," he calls, waving, "Are you lost?"

The boy shakes his head, platinum hair falling into his eyes and Zayn sighs.

Liam frowns, "Okay. Well is there something you wanted?"

The boy squirms shyly and he leans down to pick up a red bouncy ball near his feet. He nearly hides his face behind the ball and his gray eyes pierce over the ball. He looks curious, "I didn't know you could kiss boys."

Liam's brow furrows and Zayn's about to get up and tell the kid to fuck off when Liam places a hand on his chest, firmly easing him back into his lap and keeping Zayn there. "What do you mean, babe?"

The boy shakes his head and Zayn sees his smile, "I didn't know boys could kiss boys. That's cool."

"Girls can kiss girls too," Liam throws and Zayn wants to face-palm, "Boys can also kiss girls and vice versa. Does it really matter?"

The boy shrugs, "Me friends dared me to kiss my friend Tom and it was weird."

Zayn chokes and Liam's cheeks are moving up, up, up with his smile, "You kiss who you like, babe. As long as you love them. Don't be embarrassed of anything because we're all people."

Zayn frowns at Liam's advice even though he knows Liam means well.

The boy turns his head just as a panicked shout sounds from his left - a woman's voice. "Oh," he blinks, "'s my mum. I gotta go. But - " he turns back to Liam, "I don't love Tom," he wrinkles his nose, "Love is gross."

Liam waves at him as the boy shouts that he's coming, "Love can be cool sometimes."

The boy tips his head, "Bye, mister. Maybe you should love your boyfriend because he looks mad."

Zayn's mouth turns downwards, "Shouldn't you be on your way then, kid."

The boy grins widely and stumbles off, but when Zayn looks up at Liam, he's pouting down at him. "Why'd you do that?"

Zayn sighs and sits up. His back feels cold now that he's no longer pressed against Liam's lap, "Because he was a twit."

Liam laughs, "I want one. Can we have one?"

"Biologically - no."

Liam scowls at him and Zayn laughs, "They turn into teenagers Liam. You don't want a teenager."

Liam looks thoughtful for a minute and when he smiles next, it's wide and welcoming. His eyes crinkle, "I do with you."

______

Zayn doesn't sleep through the night a lot. Instead, he pads to the bathroom and stares at his reflection, traces the scars on his back with his eyes closed and tries to forget how he put them there on purpose.

Liam has to come up behind him and flip the light on, snapping Zayn out of his memories. He never questions why Zayn is obsessed with the marks on his back and Zayn insists repeatedly that they were nothing more than an accident.

Liam's eyes are always so sad when Zayn lies to him. Liam always knows when Zayn lies. Zayn does it anyway.

______

Zayn does nothing but lie to people - lies to himself, lies to his mother, lies to Liam - but out of the all of them, he's learned that he himself happens to be the most gullible one. Because a lie this big? There was no way something like this could be covered up, but Zayn had tried valiantly.

He should've known it'd come crashing down around him no matter his effort.

"Zayn?" Liam's voice is soft, quiet. Too quiet.

Zayn tenses and curls tighter under the sheets, bringing the blanket up and under his feet to block out the cold, "Yeah?" His voice is harsh in the waning moonlight, soft under the thumping of his heart, "What's up?"

Liam's thumbs press into the small of his back, "Can I touch them?"

Zayn freezes for a split second before he's flipping around, grabbing Liam's hands and lifting them off of him, "Touch what?" His chest burns like he's run a marathon, "There's nothing there."

"Was," Liam corrects. His eyes are downcast, "There _was_ nothing there. But - Zayn. They're beautiful."

Zayn shucks off the covers, ignoring the icy blast of cool air that snakes around him from all sides as he tumbles to the bathroom. He doesn't even need the light to see what Liam's talking about -the light, downy feathers pushing through his skin and reflecting leftover scraps of light.

"Zayn?"

Liam's voice is down the hall and Zayn panics.

"Don't come in," he shouts, slamming the door shut, leaning up against it and trying to breathe. The bathroom is too small and he feels suffocated.

Liam's voice is just outside the door now, "Babe. Zayn, open the door."

"No," Zayn's voice breaks and he feels frustrated tears begin to prickle his eyes, "This wasn't supposed to fucking happen."

Liam goes quiet on the other end. So quiet that Zayn thinks he stomped back to the room. Threw a few clothes together and cursing to himself. Zayn waits for the fateful slam of the front door, but it never comes.

Instead, Liam sounds like a mixture of awe and sadness, tone shaking when he talks next, "How'd you get the scars on your back?"

Zayn closes his eyes, slowly counting the seconds tick by, "Fuck off."

"Zayn -"

"Fuck _off_ , Liam," he turns to shout into the door, "Or do you want it in another fucking language?"

It takes twenty seconds for the words to sink into his stomach like dead weight. Zayn takes a shuddering breath, runs a hand down his face and opens the door.

Liam's leaning against the wall opposite the door, hands pressed into his hair. His head snaps up as Zayn comes out.

"Before you say anything," Zayn begins fiercely, "I just want to tell you that I'll be out of your hair in a few days. Give me a little time to pack - don't worry, I won't take much, just the shit that's actually mine, which is hardly anything anyway. Just - " He stops, breathing hard.

"Zayn - "

"No," Zayn mutters. He slides forward into Liam's space, pinning his wrists back into the wall with a tight grip, "Sorry," he breathes then, "Sorry I wasted so much of your fucking time - but." He smiles wryly, "They weren't supposed to come back."

Liam shakes his head and there's a weak smile pulling at his lips, "I don't want you to go." He slides his hands up and into Zayn's shirt, fingers brushing along the edges of the feathers, "I had a feeling you know. The way you talked sometimes. Is the - the languages? Is that a part of it too?"

"Yeah," Zayn's voice is strained, mind not processing beyond _I don't want you to go,_ "Most hybrids got one mutation, but me and my mum were some of the few injected with two different genes."

"Cool."

Zayn blinks, " _Cool?"_

Liam smiles sadly at him, "I've told you over and over again that I think it's cool. Don't take this offensively, but the only ones that care about their genes so much are the hybrids themselves."

"Because we have fucking _wings_ _-_ because we were _experiments_ to see if humans could ever fly," Zayn scoffs, trying to swallow back the fury in his throat, "Don't you fucking dare say shit like that to me again."

Liam shrinks, "You're right. Sorry. I - " his eyes flash around in the dark and he exhales slowly, "Let's go back to bed, yeah."

Zayn tips his head back against the wall, heartbeat finally returning to a more normal pulse, "Okay. Yeah, babe. Course."

"But - " Liam bites his bottom lip, looking ridiculously earnest with those wide eyes Zayn remembers back from Bradford, "Can we talk more tomorrow?"

And Zayn takes the step, plunges himself headfirst off a cliff with no self-preservation in sight, "Okay. Okay. Course we can talk later."

"Yeah," Liam smiles foolishly, "I love you."

Zayn squeezes Liam's shoulder with a firm hand, "Right back at you, babe."

______

The next day is bizarre.

In his bones, Zayn was waiting for a shove out the door, being called a freak, _anything_ \- other than Liam acting exactly as he always does, eyes squinting against the sunlight as he rolls over into Zayn and mutters for five more minutes.

Zayn's always the first up - can't sleep past the sun coming out beyond the window, which is hysterical considering he's sure he spends more time napping during the day than doing anything else. Liam's a late riser, likes to tuck his head into Zayn's collarbones and mutter gibberish spanning from _Zayn you're so hot_ to _How do you think life_ _first_ _began?_

This is the same boy that Zayn met in his little repair shop in Bradford, wanted to fuck around with, fell in "love" with, and followed back to London. He knows Liam inside and out. But the question is, whether Liam knows anything about him. And whether he'd find something worthwhile in Zayn after all.

"Morning," Liam groans into his neck, "I hate mornings."

Zayn huffs, "You should take more naps."

"Not all of us are bloody cats," Liam murmur back into his skin, voice already slurring together with sleep. Usually Zayn lets him stay tucked close and even drifts off himself as he waits for Liam to rejoin the land of the conscious. But, it's hard to forget that everything's different today.

Zayn flutters his fingers down the knobs of Liam's spine, traces the dimples, shoulder blades, and freckles that make up Liam Payne's skin. Skin that holds together his organs and heart - a being that Zayn's still confused by. He swallows, "When you're ready - I - "

Liam leans back abruptly and all the sleep's been blinked out of his eyes, "Zayn," his tone is threatening, "How could you say that about me? I help you write your _cartoons_ for goodness sakes - did you really think I was some sort of human-elitist asshole?"

Zayn looks away.

Liam sucks in air between his clenched teeth, "You did, didn't you. Zayn - "

"Your dad's a genetic engineer, Liam," Zayn hisses, "And I'm not fucking stupid okay. I may not have a degree in my hand, but I still know how to do some research. The name Geoff Payne doesn't exactly fill me with fucking stardust. What was I supposed to think?"

Liam shoves at him and Zayn's arms fall away from his waist. He clenches them close to his chest to prevent from feeling that cold empty air hit the places in his body where Liam used to live.

"You're supposed to trust me - you're - you've never even met my dad. How do you know what he's like? I can't _believe_ you think that - ", Liam's shouting now, frustrated hands banging against the headboard. Zayn sits up all the way, drawing the blanket up and around him like a cocoon from the slicing tension in the air.

Liam's face smoothens out suddenly and now he just looks so fucking sad, "You're always looking for someone to blame. I mean, who the hell drops out of uni because they're _afraid_ someone's gonna find out that they're a hybrid. That's not smart Zayn - that's _paranoid._ "

Zayn opens his mouth without really thinking about what he's going to say.

"And before you start throwing accusations about me - I know how to do research too."

"What the fuck," Zayn spits, "now you're digging through my fucking past?" He shoves the blanket down his legs and swings his legs over so he's sitting facing the window, back to Liam. His hands are shaking.

"Well," Liam's voice is bitter, "had to make sure you weren't some sort of murderer, yeah. It's not like you ever told me anything."

The silence is deafening then and Zayn feels like his insides are breaking.

"So," he clears his throat, hating the way his voice breaks, "is that why you never pushed." He wipes at his eyes angrily, but the fight is leaving his body, "Did you figure that it doesn't matter what I did or didn't tell you because you always had _daddy's_ hybrid resources right? Do they keep tabs on us or what?"

There's a touch at his shoulder that Zayn ignores, but it's difficult to ignore the way Liam sounds from behind him. "God, Zayn," his whispers, "No. I'd never - I. I was curious I'm sorry I shouldn't have. Looked it up, thrown it in your face like that. Sorry." There's a mouth at the back of his neck and Zayn leans away carefully. "Sorry," Liam mutters again.

Zayn pushes off the bed, turning around to watch as Liam balances on his knees on the bed. He eyes him critically as Liam struggles to compose himself. Zayn deflates, " 's okay."

Liam draws him close with a hand on his wrist. Zayn falls into him and they're both silent again, but the peaceful early morning is gone.

"I do trust you," Zayn says then, because it needs to be said, "But - sometimes. It's just _easy_ you know. To treat you like I've always treated everyone else."

Liam looks away, " 's not fair to blame me. I didn't do anything."

Zayn smiles sardonically, "But you know all the people that did."

______

Zayn remembers the days after genetic engineering had been declared illegal like they were yesterday. Remembers the hushed fear of his mother, brave facade as she cradled him at night and told him not to worry about a thing because nothing was going to happen to them.

Zayn also remembers that he didn't understand.

At the time, he'd thought it was great. There were no professors dropping by and embarrassingly pulling him out of fifth grade homeroom and telling him that they needed to, yet again, run some "urgent" tests. There was no more hybrid registration after the program was disabled due to "too many unanswerable ethical questions" and Zayn was finally left free to cover his wings under his shirt if he so pleased or wear them out with pride the way his mother did.

Only his mum actually mourned all the discarded embryos, reached out to winged mothers like her who would now never have children, and set up her traditional mourning candles on the front porch. _This is bad, Zayn,_ she had whispered to him, _our lives are never going to be the same._

And suddenly, Zayn was ostracized. Bradford may have been a bustling city, but it was a traditional city and there was no niche for someone like Zayn. So instead of the cruel words he'd mostly hole himself up in his mum's repair shop and pretend like he was making a difference. Turning back the hands on the clock. The only way he really had any control.

Two weeks before he received uni acceptance letters ( _affirmative action for hybrids_ , someone had whispered to him, _only reason you got in anywhere Zayn_ ), Liam Payne walked into his shop. They danced around each other, making unfilled dirty promises, until Liam smiled and waved goodbye, said that he had to go back to London.

Zayn smiled, tried to grapple for and hold on to the last thing that made him feel like a million pounds - if only for a few hours. Picked the uni from London, moved out there, and hunted Liam down again with the help of a number that'd been scrawled into a napkin before Liam had left for London.

But by then, everything had changed.

______

Liam comes after classes that night, tired and sleepy, lugging his book-bag and tossing it on the table with little care. Zayn's bent over, drawing his latest cartoon, and the room is silent for a very long time.

"Can - "

Zayn looks up at Liam, who's twists his hands into his shirt. Liam takes a deep breath, "Can I ask you a question?"

Zayn's eyebrows furrow, "Why're you asking me that?" His palms are sweating so he drops the pen in his hand and shoves the drawing away from him on the coffee table. He doesn't want to smudge up the lines.

Liam nods, smiling self-deprecatingly, "You might get mad."

Zayn refuses to take the bait, "Maybe you should stop jumping to conclusions all the time, yeah?"

Liam laughs, but it's not a pretty sound. He walks around the kitchen table and sits down next to Zayn. They're legs are touching, Zayn thinks hysterically. "Why - why didn't you have wings? You know, when we met?"

Zayn swallows, "What're you talking about? I did have them when we met - never saw me with my shirt off in Bradford, did you?"

"Zayn," Liam says tightly, "I know you didn't have them when we first started - when we first got together. Here. In London." He side-eyes Zayn quietly, "Why didn't you have them? Where did the scars come from?"

Zayn rolls eyes, "Why do you care?"

Liam flinches back, " _Zayn."_

He exhales quietly, "Yeah," he shakes his head, "Sorry. Fuck, What? I mean, your question?"

Liam smiles. "I just asked it," he points out, "Why didn't you have your wings when we met?"

Zayn reaches down and shucks his shirt off. Liam makes a noise of surprise that he ignores in favor of tossing the shirt on the other end of the couch and turning his back to Liam. "You see those feathers coming in there?" He asks, listening to Liam's faint murmur of agreement, "My scars were right around there, weren't they?"

Zayn hears Liam’s sharp intake of breath and freezes, eyes trained on the grainy floor.

"Where are your wings, Zayn?" And, god, Liam’s voice sounds so sad, pitiful, but Zayn shivers. Because the fall, it was beautiful. 

"I shred them,"he twists to face Liam with a wry, ironic smile, "By hand."

______

"By hand?" Liam asks that night after possibly the most awkward dinner Zayn had sat through in his life, "What do you mean by hand?"

Zayn snorts, "Meaning I plucked the feathers off and used a blade to get at the base."

Liam closes his eyes and there's an unreadable expression hidden in the corner of his eyes, "Why?"

"You'd never understand."

"I want to though," Liam pleads, "Stop shutting me out - just. Why would you do that? How could you do that? They're so _beautiful_."

Zayn sighs from where he's drying his hair in the mirror, squinting at Liam's reflection, "They were fucking noticeable is what - even under my shirts. Best way to hide? Get rid of them entirely."

Liam walks over and his hands are on Zayn's new feathers. He shivers, the touch incredibly sensitive, "Why would you want to hide though - they're just. They're just _you_ yeah and like-"

"In Bradford -"

"Fuck Bradford," Liam says vehemently, "Honestly, _fuck Bradford._ Not every place is like Bradford - this is London. Everyone is so open-minded. Why would you want to _hide_ something that's a fundamental part of who you are?"

Zayn meets his eyes in the mirror. His smile is cruel, "Dunno, Liam. Why haven't you come out to your parents yet?"

Liam's mouth snaps shut.

Zayn turns to face him and lets the towel drop to his feet even though his hair isn't dry yet and he can feel the water drip down his neck, "Not everything's as easy as you make it Liam. Maybe it's something I want to hide about myself." He smiles wryly, "Obviously, it's not gonna work considering they came back. Dunno if I have the courage to bleed that much to get rid of them again."

Liam looks away and his lips are pressed tightly together. Zayn swallows the knot in his throat, kicking himself for the low blow.

"Sorry, babe."

Liam shakes his head and blinks back his tears, "No. I - that was probably my fault. I didn't mean." He lets out a rush of air and his shoulders relax abruptly, "That's not what I meant at all. Just. Forget it, yeah."

"I know what you mean," Zayn whispers, leaning down to scoop up the towel. He presses it into his hair again, rubbing out the water, "And I think we're both wrong."

Liam smirks, "Nothing new there, yeah."

And they're both laughing.

______

Things fall into place for a few months, Zayn's wings not noticeable enough to be seen through his shirt, though definitely apparent if someone accidently brushed up against his back. He doesn't think he'll forget the woman's reaction at the grocery store anytime soon  - nor will he forget Liam's confused glances about _w_ _hy was that woman so rude, Zayn?_

Liam's perceptive - incredibly so. But there's a lot he doesn't understand.

Everything's good - it really is. Until it all goes to shit of course, because that's how Zayn's life usually works.

The report comes in during the dead of winter when even bustling London gets hushed and muffled by the falling snow.

 _The ban on Genetic Engineering in human embryos lifted_ _\- but strict_ _conditions_ _apply_ _._

The headline is on every newspaper, website, and social media site Zayn can get his hands on and he can't escape the sinking feeling in his stomach. Liam is _ecstatic -_ thinks it's the coolest thing in the world and keeps muttering to Zayn about _I wonder what they're go_ _nna make next Zayn._

Zayn swallows back his remarks, resolves that he hates Liam as much as he loves him, and wait for a new generation of hybrids to be ostracized and alienated the way he'd been in Bradford and to an extent, here in London.

Zayn sets up mourning candles in the patio of his apartment and spends on entire chain smoking in the cold winter air. There are protests worldwide - against the legalization and for the legalization. Everyone is split, but nobody understands. The only ones that do understand hide away in their houses and old shops (because in some places, hybrids have difficulty getting a good job - Zayn thinks his mum probably knows all about that).

He tells Liam it's an Eid thing and Liam smiles and asks if there's anything he can do to help.

Zayn smiles, "No Liam. There's nothing you can do for me."

______

But Liam does do something for him. He does something Zayn never thought anybody would ever do for someone like him.

Liam picks him up outside his new publisher's office on a Monday with a heavy gray, overcast. Zayn always wonders whether he'd be happier if where he lived had better weather because he likes the sun, loves the beach. But warmer weather means no coats and less clothing in general and he doesn't know if he can deal with that.

"Hey," Liam says to him. He's got the driver's side window of his car rolled down, letting the damp air push through his fringe. Liam may live in Zayn's beat up old apartment, but he's got a nice car, which was the first signal that just like Zayn was hiding who he was, Liam probably wasn't the bumbling uni student he made himself out to be. Sure enough, Liam had dropped the name "Geoff Payne" on one of their dates and the only thing that kept Zayn from running screaming out the door was Liam's warm hand on his thigh.

Zayn glances at him in surprise, "What're you doing here?"

Liam smirks, "I'm looking for my boyfriend."

"Is that so?" Zayn leans against the side of the window, crossing his arms, "Have you found him yet then?"

Liam shakes his head adorably, hair mussing, "No." He smiles brightly up at Zayn though and the adoration in his eyes makes Zayn's stomach clench, "But you're fit as hell, though. Probably more so than him."

Zayn reaches into the open window and pinches at Liam's nose. Liam pulls back with a yelp, laughing. "You're an asshole," Zayn smirks, "I need to talk to this boyfriend of yours. Warn him off your pretty face."

Liam reaches out to take his hand, "Or - you can just get in the car."

Zayn pretends to mull over the choice in his head, stroking his thumb along Liam's knuckles "Why the fuck not? 's not like I know the bloke."

He releases Liam's hand, despite the sound of protest and walks to the other side, sliding into the already open door. It's nice when things are normal, he supposes. "Thanks for picking me up," Zayn mutters, locking his seatbelt in place, "Could've walked, but thanks."

Liam looks at him sheepishly, "I actually have a reason for this. Hope you're not upset with me after I tell you though."

Zayn shrugs, body loose and satisfied after a hard day's work and the careless teasing, "What's up."

Liam lowers his voice, "Erm. So - I was wondering if you wanna come and meet my dad for a little bit?"

Zayn's hands freeze on the dashboard where they're fiddling with the radio, "What?"

"Yeah," Liam's adam's apple bobs and he keeps his eyes focused on the road in front of him, "Like, you know - "

"Liam," Zayn says, "Liam, you don't have to do this because of what I said."

"No," Liam shakes his head adamantly, "I want to do it. It's - you've come clean. And now I want to too."

Zayn eyes the side of his face for doubt and hesitation, but all Liam's got is steely determination in the set of his mouth. "Okay," Zayn says to him, leaning across the car to brush his fingers along Liam's jaw, "That's cool with me."

Liam's fingers tighten on the steering wheel but he's smiling, "Cool," he says, cheeks dimpling, "I - that's really good."

Zayn feels his heart swell and he turns to look out his passenger side window, "Of course, I'm only doing this if you promise I'll be able to punch your "boyfriend" later."

And Liam's shoulders completely loosen as he lets out a surprised burst of laughter, "Okay. Course, Zayn. It's a deal."

______

Geoff Payne's office is in the London outskirts, on the top floor of a large, high-rise industrial building. There's a billboard at the turn spelling out _GeneTech_ in large, bold letters. Zayn has to squeeze Liam's shoulders before they get out of the car so Liam can school his rapid breathing.

"Ready?" Zayn asks quietly, "Remember, you still don't have to do this. It's not really that important - and if you're doing this because I said -"

Liam exhales loudly through his nose, "No. I'm good. I'm doing this because I want to. And because I want to understand something." He turns to face Zayn, "You should kiss me before we go in there though. For good luck."

Zayn smiles weakly and does just that, Liam's mouth warm and plump in the frigid temperature. Liam slips his hand in Zayn's and drags him inside, straight to the employee-only elevator in the back. He doesn't speak to anyone, just drags Zayn through past the receptionist and past some workers walking around in lab coats and scrubs.

Zayn wants to slow down and take it in because somewhere in these walls, he was injected with lab created genetic materials. It's nothing something he'd been thinking of when Liam told him that they were coming here, but now that he's in the building, Zayn can't stop thinking about it. Liam doesn't let his grip loosen until they're both in the elevator with the doors firmly dinged shut.

Zayn's breathing hard, eyes going in and out of focus, until the elevator begins to move sharply upward. Luckily, they're the only two in the lift and if Zayn wants to panic, he can fucking panic.

Or, maybe not since Liam tries to stop him, "Zayn?"

Zayn nods feebly, fumbling with the zipper on his jacket.

"Zayn," Liam mutters again, pulling him close. Zayn hides his face in Liam's neck, "Zayn. Fuck. If it makes you feel any better - the actual labs are in another building."

Zayn laughs, but the sound is strangled and choked, "It doesn't." It's a strange feeling. To think that if Zayn was just lucky enough not to be injected - or more fittingly, if Zayn's mum wasn't injected because after all, he was a second gen. hybrid.

Liam's hands are soothing on his shoulders, "Bad idea, huh." There's a pause, " 'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Neither was I but it's fine," Zayn says, steeling his shoulders, "I'm good." He draws back from Liam and looks at him, "I'm completely good."

Liam smiles at him as the elevator dings to the top floor, "Course you are." He's sincere, like he believes Zayn is capable of doing just about anything. But it's this very blind faith Liam has in everybody that keeps Zayn up at night.

Liam takes his hand again as the step out. This floor has a much smaller open space, the white walls covered with advertising slogans and closed doors that Zayn assumes lead off to the offices of important people. He wonders if any of them do the actual injecting or if that job is given to lower ranking workers since it doesn't take much brainpower.

"Hope you're dad will be okay with me," Zayn mutters then, Liam's predicament returning to light.

"He'll be fine," Liam says back quietly as they make their way through the maze of hallways, "I mean - it might take him a little while to get used to, but like I said, he's not homophobic or anything."

Zayn laughs, "That's not what I meant."

"Oh. _Oh._ "

"Yeah Liam," Zayn layers the words with emphasis, " _That._ "

But Liam's smile dimples up at him, "Why wouldn't he be, Zayn - there's nothing wrong with you. There's no reason you should be ashamed. And there's no reason for you to think that you won't be accepted somewhere. You're a person too. Don't be paranoid."

Zayn squints at him in disbelief. Liam was the smartest, stupid person he'd probably had the pleasure of falling in love with.

When they enter the office, the first thing Zayn notices is that Liam looks a lot like his father. They've both got the same tanned complexion, warm brown eyes, and medium tinted hair. Liam's father is dressed very casually, gray T-shirt visible as he stares down at a file so intently that Zayn doesn't think he's even heard them come in.

Liam clears his throat.

Geoff looks up then, startled, but once his eyes fall on Liam, he smiles widely. And Zayn can see Liam in that smile. "Liam," he says, "How are you, son?"

Liam teeters from one foot to the other, "Good, yeah."

There's a bit of an awkward silence and Zayn knows it's from the lack of contact they have. They're not hostile - just a little distant. And suddenly, he's filled with a fierce longing for his own mother.

Geoff's eyes flicker to him but surprisingly, there's no disgust or hate in them, but then he realizes his wings are covered and waiting for the loathing, scathing remarks are almost second nature to him now. Geoff raises his eyebrows at Zayn, "Who's this?"

Zayn unclenches his free hand, the other still hanging between his and Liam's body, intertwined with Liam's, " 'm Zayn," he says.

Liam's father smiles, "Hello Zayn," he glances at their hands, "Bet I know what you two are here for."

Liam tugs at his collar nervously, "Um. Zayn is - he's -"

"Your boyfriend," Geoff fills in, "Got that from the hands Liam. Give your old man a little credit."

But interestingly enough, Liam's shoulders don't relax, "Zayn's a hybrid," he blurts as if he couldn't get the words out of his mouth fast enough.

Geoff blinks, "I see."

Zayn's mouth feels like sandpaper.

"Is that - " Liam struggles, "That's okay right, because he's really - he's a really good person, dad. Like, I really love him and I'm not gonna stop seeing him if you -"

But Liam's father stands up and walks around his desk, placing his hands on Liam's shoulders. And it's then that Zayn notices the most undeniable fact in the universe - it's right in his face, plain as day and he doesn't know how Liam's missed it.

Geoff Payne loves his son. Very, very, very much.

"Liam," Geoff says quietly, "Liam I'm not going to ask you to stop being with someone that makes you happy." He looks a little uncomfortable now, "I know - know that we haven't exactly been close, but, you shouldn't give up someone that makes you happy." His shoulders slump and Zayn thinks this man is probably holding up the weight of the world on them, "God knows I've learned that. Your mother -"

"Please," Liam interrupts, and he's colder, stepping back, "Don't. Let's not get into that. You guys got divorced. Cool. I don't blame you or mum. It's in the past, let it go."

Zayn tugs him back, giving him a hard look, and Liam shrinks, muttering, "Sorry."

Geoff looks devastated and Zayn knows it's the look of a man who misses someone he loves. God knows that Zayn sees that look in his own face in the mirror when he thinks about Tricia's wings around his shoulders, a shield of good holding back the harsh world.

Liam shakes his head, "So you don't care then."

Geoff mimics his actions, "No, Liam. Not at all."

"Good," he responds, firmly, "That's - that's good. Um. But that's not why I came here."

Zayn gentles his hand out of Liam's grasp and gives him a wide-eyed look that reads _then why the fuck are we here_ _?_

Liam takes a deep breath, "I need you to - to - shut down your labs. I - dad, _please._ "

At this, Liam's father narrows his eyes, "What do you mean?"

Zayn tries to pull Liam back discreetly, hissing " _Liam,_ " into the shell of his ear.

But Liam fights out of his grasp and follows his dad back to his desk. Geoff falls heavily into the chair and looks up at Liam helplessly.

Liam stares back, "I mean, shut down the labs. You guys are the biggest company in the country that works on genetic engineering in humans. If you go back to food, then the whole industry will shut down here in the UK. Dad. Come on. Please."

Geoff's voice is very gentle, "Liam. If I do that, thousands of people are going to lose their jobs. Good people - with homes to run and families to feed. I can't do this just because you -"

"It's not just me though," Liam explodes, "There are protests around the world. This is wrong dad. You're messing with people's lives - sometimes without their agreement."

Goeff stands up, "All experiments are carried out with signed consent -"

"Nobody asked _him_ ," Liam shouts, hand pointing back to Zayn. Zayn squirms uncomfortably, eyes trained on the floor, "He hates it. I. Don't - don't do this to people, dad."

Geoff pinches the bridge of his nose, "I'm under contract to do this, Liam. If I don't want to, I'll have to leave the company and quit my job. And with you in uni, I just can't afford that."

Liam looks helpless and then he's turning on Zayn. Zayn steps back, uninterested in getting involved.

"Zayn," Liam pleads, "you've got to tell him. You have to tell him what happened to you and your mum. The shit people say to you sometimes."

Zayn shakes his head and draws Liam's shaking frame into his chest. "Liam," he mutters, "Liam what _in hel_ _l_ are you doing?"

"I just -" Liam's hands grip his waist, "You've been _miserable_ since the announcement and in some ways even before it. You never believe me when I tell you that other people won't hate you -"

"Liam," Zayn breathes, smile pulling at the tips of his lips, "I know you mean well. But you are so confused it's hilarious. You're completely clueless, babe."

Liam blinks up at him, " _I'm_ clueless. I've seen you, Zayn. You mope and mope and mope and you fucking moved out of Bradford and left your mum behind because of the hate. True or not?"

Zayn sighs, "True."

"Exactly," Liam turns back to Geoff, "That's why you have to stop."

"Liam," Zayn says calmly. Liam peeks back at him and there's a moment of silence that Zayn takes advantage of, "Shut up."

The room goes deathly quiet and Zayn curls his hands in his pockets. He turns to Geoff, "Sorry for wasting your time. Liam brought me in because I wanted to introduce myself." He steps forward and shakes Liam's father's hand. Geoff smiles slightly and Zayn feels a rush of confidence, "I'm Zayn and I'm in love with your son."

Geoff laughs, "Guess I'm supposed to tell you that if you hurt him I'll kill you," he smiles wryly.

Zayn shrugs, "I'm not going to." He shuffles, "That's really all. Thanks for everything - me and Liam both wanted to tell you." He presses a hand to the small of Liam's back and leads a shell shocked Liam out the door, "We'll leave now, thanks again and it was nice meeting you."

"Zayn?" Geoff calls after him. Zayn stops in his tracks just in time to hear, "If you hurt him, they'll never find your body, mate."

Zayn smiles to himself, "Understood," he shouts back and drags Liam back to the elevator.

They're silent for a few seconds before Liam turns on Zayn, "Why'd you do that? We could've convinced him - don't you want that?"

Zayn keeps his eyes on the elevator door, "No," he admits, "That's not what I want. I don't think there's anything wrong with being a hybrid. I'm one myself."

Liam flinches and his tone changes drastically to something much more soft, "That's not what I meant. I never meant to imply that I think there's something wrong with it."

"I know," Zayn smiles lopsidedly at him, "But you've gotta understand. I hate being a hybrid because other people hate me because I'm a hybrid. Stopping the experiment does nothing to help."

Liam's quiet for a long time and Zayn reaches across the space and pulls him into his body, kissing the back of his head.

"Love you," Zayn mutters.

Liam's voice is very small, "But just because some people do doesn't mean we all hate them. You - you generalize a lot, you know. Sometimes you blame me. Don't think I can't see that."

"I know," Zayn admits. He laughs, running a hand through Liam's hair, "We've both got so much to fucking learn."

"Learn together then," Liam smiles into his arm, "That was probably stupid. I'm sorry. I just - I felt like you _hated_ me so I thought. Why not right?"

Zayn inhales sharply, "I don't hate you, Liam. I could never hate you. You fucking _make_ my life you know that, love."

"I know now," Liam says quietly, "I know now that you've actually said it to me."

Zayn lets the implications of those words melt into his bones, "Point taken."

"Jesus," Liam breathes, leaning back into him as the elevator dings to a stop, "I just realized. It's almost Christmas."

Zayn smiles into his neck, "Been so caught up with shit that we've failed to notice."

"Hey," Liam slaps his side, pouting.

"It's true," Zayn laughs.

"We should put up a tree," Liam mutters, "You know. Like with lights and popcorn and everything."

"Or," Zayn mutters, hands shaking in the fear of it, "We can - we can go somewhere."

Liam twists his head back to drop a light kiss to Zayn's mouth, "Neither of us have the money for that sort of thing."

"No," Zayn says, steeling himself, "I mean - you'll see. I've - I've got someone I think you need to meet. If she'll have me again that is."

______

Liam pesters him for the entire week leading up to the holidays but Zayn locks his lips and swears up and down that he's not going to give in and that it's a surprise. In the mean time, he releases another comic - this one about ignorance - and with the money buys two train tickets to Bradford.

He leads Liam to the train station on December 23rd, making sure to wear a thick coat because his wings are becoming more and more apparent by the day. Liam's stopped saying anything about it and Zayn hopes it's because he's finally understood. Liam's a hyperactive, eager teenager at seven in the morning, tumbling around the bench where they're sitting and asking Zayn where they're going. Zayn huddles into his jacket, tries to prevent his fingers from falling off, and questions his life choices.

The train pulls up twenty minutes late and Zayn rushes him inside, Liam trailing after him, still talking a mile a minute, speculating about where they could possibly be going. Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose and laughs at him.

It's not until they’re actually in the city, Zayn half asleep while Liam reads some poetry book - because again, words are Liam's thing not Zayn's, that Liam looks down at him splayed out on his lap and mutters, wide-eyed, "Bradford? You brought me to Bradford?"

Liam looks radiant, lit up from the inside out as he smiles out the window at the run down buildings. Zayn reaches up to run a hand across his collarbone, "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," Liam's voice cracks and Zayn suddenly feels like he shouldn't be here. Like this moment is so important to Liam that it's an invasion of privacy for even Zayn to witness it. It's the moment where Liam can probably say that Zayn's finally loosened his grip on his impenetrable armor.

"Will we be staying with your mum, then?"

Zayn's blood turns to ice, "Erm. No. I mean, I don't know? I haven't really - spoken to her - at all."

Liam frowns down at him, "You should."

"We grew apart," Zayn insists, but the excuse sounds feeble to even his own ears.

Liam doesn't say anything in return, but Zayn can see it in his face.

"I'm afraid to call her," Zayn admits, "I - sort of up and left her. Told her I was going to London for uni and disappeared." He exhales, "She doesn't even know I've dropped out."

Liam runs a soothing hand through his hair as he struggles to continue, "Sort of figured I'd show up on her doorstep and see what she says." He covers his face with his hands, "Really bad idea I know, but I'd just - just like to see her. And this may be the only way."

Liam doesn't point out the extent of his stupidity, which Zayn appreciates. Instead, he looks concerned, "Do you know where she lives then?"

Zayn shrugs, "Above the shop probably. To be fair - and I know it's a horrible thing to say - but it's not like she can afford anything better."

"Okay," Liam breathes, "okay let's go give it a shot. What's the worse she could say, right?"

Zayn turns his face into Liam's stomach, wings cramping up behind his back, "Get off my doorstep, you're no son of mine."

Liam laughs, but Zayn can feel the underlying strain in the sound, "She won't say that. I promise - she won't. She loves you."

"She loved me."

______

Zayn and Liam spend a lot of time staring at the repair shop.

Zayn blinks, "This - this isn't what I remember it being."

The shop is a beautiful, wide crystal window, walls freshly coated in paint, and the old, rusted silver bell above the door replaced with a shiny, bronze one. If Zayn peeks into the glass, he can see the pristine, display counters and costly watches under them with price tags well out of his price range.

There's a sick taste building in his mouth.

"Looks nice," Liam nods, "your mum really fixed it up."

"She wouldn't," Zayn breathes, "She'd _never_ do this. That - that shop wasn't much, yeah, I know, but it was _ours._ It had a row of these old grandfather clocks and the counters were wooden because my mum thought it fit the atmosphere. And the walls were - "

"I know," Liam whispers gently, "But maybe it was time for a change, yeah?"

Zayn deflates, "Not like this." He clenches his fingers and then he's striding across to the front door, springing it open as Liam shuffles after him.

"Hello?" he calls, but the shop is apparently empty. "Hey - um. Is anyone in here?"

Liam comes up behind him, "Maybe it's a lunch break?"

Zayn shakes his head adamantly, "My mum would never leave the door open."

"Zayn -"

"Not now, Liam," Zayn mutters furiously, tears stinging at his eyes.

A voice comes in through an employee only back room that Zayn doesn't remember from before, "Just a minute. I'll be out in a sec."

Zayn holds his breath as the door pushes wider and Tricia Malik slides out. Her hair is still the same rich brown, and her eyes are still warm and hazel though she looks older, more tired, and just a little bit lonely. Her wide wings flutter behind her and Zayn thinks that time's turned back and he's seven years old again.

Tricia meets his eyes and leans heavily against the counter. She smiles tiredly, "Hello, sunshine."

______

"You sold the shop," Zayn accuses as they carry boxes back to the supply area. Zayn doesn't remember even having a supply area. And Tricia's wearing a _uniform_ with a _nametag_ and everything. Liam's shuffling his feet awkwardly behind him and shooting Zayn warning looks, but Zayn's so angry he's seeing red, "You sold the shop. How could you sell the shop?"

Tricia puts the box she was carrying down and sighs, giving him another kiss on the cheek before she goes back to get another, completely ignoring Zayn's question like she's done for the past many times Zayn has asked her.

"Mum," Zayn pleads, "Why? I just - it was _our_ shop."

Tricia looks at him then and Zayn thinks it's the _mum_ that finally broke her. Her wings flutter anxiously and for the first time, Zayn craves to let them out and feel the wind blow through his feathers. Zayn's mother closes her eyes for long moments before she takes a deep breath, "I sold it because if I didn't, they threatened to rip down the entire building. I was so far behind on rent, Zayn. There was nothing I could do."

Zayn feels guilt sucker punch him, "I'm sorry."

She smiles at him again - her mum smile, " 's okay sweetheart. I'm just glad you're happy. And," she spreads her arms a little, "I've still got my shop haven't I? Not completely useless yet." Her eyes flicker up to him then, "How was uni?"

Zayn's tongue feels knotted, but he knows he owes her this much at least, "I didn't - I didn't finish."

She nods, but doesn't look disappointed. "I'm sure you will, Zayn, I know you will."

Zayn steels his fists, "Yeah. Yeah I will."

There's a crash from behind them and when Zayn and Tricia whip around to look, Liam's standing there sheepishly as a pile of watch plates lie on the ground near his feet.

"Sorry," he blushes, "I - I'll put them back. I just - I was just looking around and it all. Fell. Down. Sorry."

Zayn shakes his head and gives him a fond smile, "Clumsy to the point of being inept, Payne."

Liam pouts at him until Zayn's smile turns into a full-blown laugh. He watches as Liam bends down to pick up the scattered pieces before turning back to his mum. Tricia's watching his face critically, eyes flickering from Zayn to Liam and back again and again.

"Liam," she says, not taking her eyes off Zayn's face, "You're the boy my son met in this shop, yes?"

"Yeah," Liam says, voice shaking, "I met Zayn here a few years ago actually."

"How long have you two been - together?"

"Since then," Zayn says and Tricia leans forward to take his hand.

She presses forward into Zayn's ear, roles revered, as now she's the one that has to stand on her toes to reach him. "He's wonderful," she whispers, "I love him."

"Me too," Zayn admits.

Liam watches their exchange curiously and Zayn can already tell that he's burning for answers and details.

Tricia kicks the last of the boxes and smiles up at them, "It's been a slow day, so we might as well close up, yeah? Let's go up and I can get you boys some tea and biscuits. You two staying?"

"For a few days," Zayn mumbles, then hastily amends, "If that's okay, of course."

Tricia gives him a sad look, "Of course that's okay Zayn. You're my son - you can stay as long as you like." She nods at Liam, "And you're always welcome too, love."

"Thank you," Liam says then, "Really appreciate it, Mrs. Malik."

"Ms. Malik," Tricia corrects, pulling the keys out of her pocket and into her hands, preparing to lock up, "there's no father for hybrids. Just a form saying who the other half of Zayn is."

Liam twists his fingers in his shirt, "Oh," he squeaks, "I'm sorry."

Tricia smiles wryly, "Don't be. Men are more trouble than they're worth." She walks quickly to the door and ushers Zayn and Liam out as she promptly locks the doors. This next part is familiar: walking a little side path around the shop until they reached a set of fire-escape steps that Zayn knows leads up to their little hovel of a home.

It makes Zayn's flat in London look like a palace.

"Come on up, boys," Tricia calls, taking the steps rapidly, sometimes two at once, like she can't wait to get home.

Liam tips his head and smiles up at her, receiving one in response. He starts on the stairs, Zayn close behind him.

"She's changed," Zayn whispers then, "A lot."

"She's your mum," Liam points out, "And you should love her."

"I do," Zayn replies, "But she's - different. It's not bad, just - yeah. Different."

______

Zayn used to call his home cozy, but now, coming back after years on end, he can safely skip past that word and immediately go to cramped.

There's a joint living room and kitchen, the same natural wood dining table he remembers from his childhood. Two doors line the left side of the room, white paint chipping. The first leads to a shoebox bedroom and the other goes to the pint-sized bathroom. The huge change from the repair shop isn't evident up here and the contrast is a little jarring.

Tricia smiles, "Welcome home."

"Yeah," Zayn echoes softly.

Liam nudges him sharply and plasters a wide smile, "Thanks for having us, Ms. Malik. If it's an issue," he looks at the hole-in-a-wall apartment, "me and Zayn can grab a motel or something. You don't have to let us stay here."

Tricia waves him off absent mindedly as she walks towards the mini-kitchen. It still smells exactly like Zayn remembers, spicy scent tickling his nose in a way only ethnic food can. "Nonsense. It's a pleasure having you two. Make yourselves at home. Zayn, you learned to cook yet?"

Zayn startles, "Erm. Yes. I mean- sort of." He drags his foot across the carpet and wipes the sweat off his hands, "No."

Tricia snorts, "What do you do with someone like him, Liam?"

"Teach him how," is Liam's response, cheeky smile pushing up his cheeks. Zayn glowers at him but Liam completely disregards him, "I mean - not that I haven't tried. But maybe, you'll do better since he's your son, yeah?"

There’s still a strange sort of tension in the air as they both make a lunch that's probably going to go towards dinner since it's five in the evening. Tricia's hands are bony and she looks worn out. When Liam excuses himself to use the bathroom, Zayn brushes up next to her and puts a hand around his mother's back.

"Mum," he feels eight, tears filling his eyes, "How bad is it?"

"Not that bad," Tricia admits, "Some days - some days it's worse. You know how Bradford can be, right?" Her right wing comes up and around his shoulders and Zayn melts into the contact, "Figured that's why you left. I'm glad you did in someway - grew up away from all this and maybe saw a little more of the world than I did."

He hears Liam come back into the living room, but he maintains a respectful distance, messing with the two small suitcases they've packed. Zayn looks up at his mum and he knows he owes her this much. Owes her this much after leaving at eighteen with most of her bank account in his pocket, swearing up and down that he'd never come back to this godforsaken town, not even for his own mother.

"I -" Zayn twists his hands and watches his reflection in a steel plate, "I shred my wings off. With a hand knife." Tricia's mouth falls open, but Zayn pushes forward purposefully not meeting her eyes, "They're coming back in now - faster than last time, too. They're. Just. Hidden under my coat," his voice gets very small, "like always."

Tricia's eyes flicker from his back to his eyes and she looks a little sad, a little broken, and Zayn can see a lot of himself in her eyes in that moment. "Take your coat off, Zayn," she smiles, reaching for the gas heater, "I'll turn the heat up."

Zayn blinks back the shame in his eyes, and with the weight of his mother's undeserved forgiveness, stalks back to sink into Liam. Liam's arms come up and around him instantly, gathering him close.

"Glad you told her," Liam mutters into his hair, "She deserves it."

"She forgave me," Zayn murmurs back, "she shouldn't have done that."

Liam laughs a little at that, "That's what mum's do, Zayn. They're loyal - "  
"Your mum left you with your dad. Have you even seen her since?" Zayn shoots back, all humor gone from his tone. He's grasping at straws now.

"No," Liam admits, jaw tightening. Zayn wants to take back the words, but like always he can't, "No I haven't seen her. But if I do, I have no doubt that she'd welcome me too." And there it is again, Liam's incredible faith in the inherent goodness of all people. Zayn used to think it was stupid, but he can see how it's hope inducing, keeping Liam awake and alive.

He wishes sometimes that he could be the same way.

"Boys," Tricia comes out, counting a small wad of cash, "I know - know I've personally never celebrated the holiday. But if you two want, we go can out - and maybe get a Christmas tree, yeah? A small one of course but just something to celebrate the holiday. I think it'd be nice, don't you?"

Zayn smiles, something warm settling into his stomach, "Course mum. That sounds fantastic."

"I'll pay," Liam breaks in hastily, while Tricia protest. Liam cuts her off with that characteristic, wide smile and warps his arms around Zayn's waist, dropping a kiss to the back of his neck, "It's the least I can do. Besides, I'm assuming this is for my benefit?"

______

Bradford is a different type of cold than London - grayer without the hustle and bustle of people walking. Here, the streets are lined with halal markets and curry shops rather than the high end shopping and Chinese dining. The holiday season means the streets are packed with last minute shoppers trudging through the snow in search of something for their loved ones.

Luckily, or unluckily, everybody gives Tricia, Zayn, and Liam a wide breath - probably due to the wings showing through the holes in Tricia's coat. Zayn remembers doing that, cutting up his shirts, coats, and jerseys because second-hand department stores rarely sold anything that was hybrid wear ready.  Now, he hasn't done it in years.

They walk to the end of a dark street where a man's set up the last of the Christmas trees in a fenced off area. There's not much left, just one exceptionally large one, one that doesn't have ferns, and another that Zayn swears is lopsided.

They go home with the lopsided one, standing tall at about two and a half feet. Liam hands over the cash and cradles the tree home, eyes bright in the otherwise somewhat rundown city that Bradford is.

Zayn takes a deep breath of the smoke, listens to the honking cars in the distance, and takes Liam's hand in the soft moonlight. He can see his mum tucking a smile in her scarf.

And Zayn feels at home.

______

That night, Tricia insists that they take the bed in the room, while she curls blankets and a pillow on the couch. Liam hesitates a lot more than Zayn, but in the end, agrees to the plan.

They go to bed at ten - something that Zayn can't remember doing at all whether he was at uni or simply working. Tricia doesn't need to open up the shop tomorrow since it's Christmas, but Zayn knows her sleep schedule. She'll be puttering around with a cup of tea and a rap at their door before six in the morning tomorrow.

By the time he pads back with brushed teeth and sweats, Liam's already changed and ready for bed, standing in the middle of their little bedroom. It's almost exactly how Zayn remembers it - two twin beds pushed close together because Zayn was afraid of the dark and liked to cuddle with his mum as well as a desk crammed on the other end where Zayn used to do his algebra.

The sheets are the same and Zayn's heart pangs at the thought of his mother here alone and cold.

But Liam's looking at the walls.

"Did you do those?" he nods towards the intricate ink sketches and scratchboards.

Zayn shakes his head, "No. I don't have the talent to do that. My mum's much better with the detail stuff - those comics you see me draw are really my thing."

Liam nods to himself, "Cool."

Zayn walks forward and tips up the sheets, "Come on. Let's go to bed. Mum's gonna wake us super early. Likes the sunrises you can see from up here."

Liam slides in next to him and Zayn hesitates before shucking off his shirt and unfurling his wings. They're long now - as long as his arms are even while folded up. The only reason Zayn knows they can't be seen under his clothing is because all his feathers haven't come in yet.

Liam watches him silently. He bites his lip, "Can I touch them?"

Zayn shrugs, lying down on his side with his back facing Liam, "Go ahead. Warning not to touch the base though."

Liam's hand freezes, "Does it hurt?" He sounds concerned again and Zayn knows he loves him.

Zayn shakes his head, "No." He sighs, "It tickles." He can almost imagine the gleeful expression on Liam's face.

"In that case," Liam mutters and then there's a strong arm around Zayn's waist that he can't break out off as fingers slide along the roots of his wings where the newly grown feathers are just coming in.

Zayn tires to choke back his laughter, but he can't and pretty soon Liam's booming laugh is joining in and they're rolling around in the sheets, giggling.

There are two sharp knocks on the door, shocking them back into awareness.

"Zayn? Liam?" Tricia's muffled voice comes through the door, "I don't want to know what you boys are doing in there. I want you two to go to bed - or at least be quiet enough for me to go to bed."

"Yeah mum," Zayn gets out. Liam's face is flaming and Zayn flashes him an exaggerated grin, "We're not doing anything."

There's a long pause.

"I'm not even going to - " Tricia trails off and it sounds like she's slammed her forehead on the door, "Quiet you two."

"Yes, Ms. Malik," Liam calls and Zayn breaks into another round of laughter. Tricia sighs and shuffles away.

______

"Do you like them?" Zayn whispers. It's some odd time in the night - not quiet morning from the look of the sky, but nearing about that time. Zayn can hear Tricia's snores from the living room so this really shouldn't be as romantic as it is.

Liam hums and nods, but his eyes are still closed.

Zayn snorts, flexing his left wing sharply to smack Liam in the face, "Asked you a question, babe."

Liam makes an irritated noise, batting him away as his mouth puckered into a pout, "Why are you making me feed your ego in the middle of the night?"

Zayn rolls over straight on top of Liam and grins down obnoxiously at him, supporting himself on his elbows, "Do you like them?" He repeats - bringing the soft, white masses up to cup Liam's face.

Liam cracks his eyes open and there's a strange look in his eyes when he looks up at Zayn. It's not good or bad - just strange. "I love them," Liam mumbles, reaching out a hand to thread his fingers into the silken feathers, "They're a part of you - of course I love them."

Zayn looks down at him and his heart squeezes up. Later, he'll claim that he slipped, but the truth is that there are unvoiced emotions welling in his eyes so he reaches down to kiss Liam sharply so they don't spill over. He's not entirely sure whether or not he fooled Liam, but Liam, unlike him, has always been too kind to poke fun at Zayn when he's being serious.

"Hey," Liam mumbles. Zayn hides his face in Liam's neck and his wings flap almost uncontrollably. Liam reaches up to hold them down, "I'm really glad I met you."

Zayn refuses to lift his head, releasing a slow breath into the warm, comforting home that Liam creates for him with his body, "Nice of you to say since I'm a bit of a fuck up."

"Who isn't?" Liam teases, hushed, "Besides, your mum forgives you - and you should let her."

"Don't deserve it."

"Bullshit." There are hands in Zayn's wings, pulling them closer so Liam can mold himself between them, "She understands why you did what you did; even I get it. You're too hard on yourself."

Zayn shrugs, unconvinced, "Okay."

Liam laughs and nudges his cheek with his nose, "You're a twat."

"And you're _loud_ ," Zayn pinches Liam's side and he knows it's a terrible diversion, but the turn of the conversation isn't exactly something he's willing to follow - especially not with Liam warm and beautiful under him.

"One of us has to be."

Zayn throws a look back at the locked door, "If either of us are loud, my mum's gonna come in here and that's a conversation I'm not looking forward to having."

It takes a minute for Zayn's words to properly sink in and when they do, Liam narrows his eyes, "Zayn," he says, warning and low, " _No_."

Zayn laughs, "But don't you want to see what I can do with my wings?"

The idea seems to make Liam come up short for a second, "You can use your wings for sex?" Liam shoots him a look, biting back a smile, "Okay, if this is like a weird thing you want me to do now, I'm not sure -"

Zayn pinches Liam's T-shirt clad nipple and Liam slaps him away, laughing. "No," Zayn scowls - or at least tries to because his mouth his threatening to form a full blown grin, "Jesus, is everything about sex in your head?"

Liam shrugs guiltily but he doesn't say anything in response. Zayn reaches down to hide his face in Liam's neck.

Liam's amused breath breaks the silence, "You're sure you can't fly?"

"Why?" Zayn raises an eyebrow, "Wanna have weird, midair sex?"

"No," Liam says indignantly, "Was just a question, you shit. Jesus, is everything about sex in your head? I just think they look sort of like - you know, angel wings."

"Angel wings," Zayn deadpans, "You think me and an angel have anything in common?"

Liam shakes his head, hands splayed possessively over Zayn's waist and the small of his back, "No - I know _you're no angel_."

There's a pause and Zayn covers his face groaning, rolling off of Liam and hiding his face. Sometimes he questions why Liam, potentially the most ridiculous man in the world, ended up in his bed.

"No," Zayn mumbles, "Go away."

Liam's warm breath washes across the back of his neck and he's laughing, " _Underneath the pretty face is something complicated_ \- "

" _Fuck off."_

Liam breaks into a peal of laughter and Zayn's quivering in pent up laughter and fear that Tricia's going to come down and knock at their door.

"Yeah?"

Zayn sighs and turns back around, bringing Liam close, "If we weren't currently in my mum's bed, I'd fuck you just to shut you up."

Liam snorts disbelievingly, "My falsetto is _perfect_. I'd like to see you try."

Zayn wraps a wing around Liam, "Challenge accepted. Rain check?"

"Rain check."

______

The next morning, when Zayn wakes up, he's alone, Liam's side of the bed gone long cold. Zayn groans at the icy floor and low heat apartment, cold winter mornings rushing back to the forefront of his mind. He's just about to push open the slightly ajar door leading to the living room, when he hears low voices coming from the direction of the kitchen.

"Is he happy?" Tricia's asking from the dining table as Liam cooks eggs for Zayn like he always does back in London.

Liam shrugs in response, "He's getting there. I - I mean. He still hides and for a long time I just assumed that because he didn't flaunt his wings that he was embarrassed of them."

"Zayn's not embarrassed of his wings," Tricia hums thoughtfully, "He doesn't see anything wrong in it. I mean. I'm not him and I haven't exactly been a permanent fixture in his life, but if you were to ask me - I think I'd say that Zayn's more embarrassed about what other people think of him."

Liam smiles down at the cooking eggs, "I think he's wonderful."

Tricia laughs, teasing, "We probably only think that because we love him. Zayn can be quite the broody terror."

"I know," Liam replies, sliding the eggs onto two plates, "And I still think he's wonderful." He sets slides plate in front of Tricia and sits down with one himself. Zayn frowns - he wants eggs too.

Tricia scoops a forkful into her mouth and smiles, "You're a better cook than him. I like you, love."

Liam blushes and Zayn's heard just about enough. He bangs the door open and his mum looks up at him, amused.

"I heard that," he mutters, then raises his voice, "Morning."

"Hi, babe," Liam smiles over his shoulder, then looks down at his plate frowning, "Did you want breakfast?"

And Tricia's laughter follows him all the way to the bathroom.

______

Their time in Bradford comes to an end quickly, the return ticket booked for the night of December 27th. The night before, Zayn asks his mum if he can take Liam down to the watch shop and she looks at him a little strangely, but agrees nonetheless.

Zayn wakes Liam up at four in the morning and as Liam bats him away, hums in his ear that he's got something to show him. That's all it takes for Liam to slump up sleepily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and giving Zayn a soft smile.

Zayn zips up a hoodie before sliding a beanie onto Liam's head, "Bring your watch babe."

Liam's eyebrows furrow, "The broken one?" He yawns, stumbling out of bed for a shirt, tucking himself into one of Zayn's leather jackets. He looks lovely, Zayn thinks, heartbreakingly, familiarly lovely.

"I can fix it," Zayn mumbles to him, "Come on. The shop opens in three hours and I haven't done this for a while so I'm going to need all the time I can get."

Liam, bless him, doesn't question Zayn after that. He follows silently, making sure not to let the winter chill into the living room where Tricia's curled under a mound of blankets on the couch. They open the shop up silently and Zayn looks around for a minute before heading into the back room where his mum was when they first dropped in.

This room is more familiar - dusty corners and old, mahogany tables mixed in with natural wood watchcases. Tricia had liked the jumble of furniture and while Zayn was much more of a white, minimalist lover, he could see how the chaos brought comfort. It aches deep inside Zayn that the shop doesn't belong to her any longer and that maybe if he had stayed, things might be different.

Liam's watch has stopped working completely so Zayn pops off the back and refines the third wheel, sets the balance screws, and resets his winding. There's a moment where Zayn thinks that all of this is wrong - that Liam's watch won't run, that their trip to Bradford is a waste, and that Liam's looks of awe are false. Then, the watch thrums to life under his fingers, ticking off regularly and steadily.

Liam knocks his shoulders and leans his head into his collarbone. "It's almost the new year," he mumbles, "Excited?"

Zayn hums, reaching up to sweep a hand reassuringly up and down Liam's back, "Yeah," he says honestly, surprising even himself, "I'm really excited."

Liam smirks, "Let's stay in and have sex."

Zayn snorts, shaking his head, "Sure thing babe - whatever you want."

Liam snuffles happily into his neck and Zayn can feel his breathing even out, nearly slipping back into sleep. Zayn nudges him off, but Liam grumbles, clinging tighter. Zayn feels laughter bubble up in his chest, "Don't fall asleep on me, babe."

"Yeah," Liam mutters back, "Let's take it to the bed. And I mean that in a sexy way if you didn't get it."

"I got it."

Liam laughs lightly, "But you know, it's amazing." He gestures around the little backroom, "that you can build stuff like this. Take something so messed up and - I don't know - put it back together. It's - it's cool, yeah."

Zayn puts his other arm around him and they lean there for a while as Zayn swears that the New Year will be a New Beginning.

Liam's watch ticks in agreement.

______

"Do you - do you want to come with us?" Zayn tightens his hold on Tricia's hands and Tricia smiles sadly.

"Sunshine," she whispers to him, trailing a hand over his hair, "I need to stay here. I need my shop."

"Okay," it feels like there's a sticky glob of feelings caught in his trachea, but Zayn already knows that there's nothing he can do to convince her. Known it even before he offered. He reaches out with a ligament, "I love you."

Tricia laughs and pulls him into a hug, wings folding tight around Zayn's body, surrounding him in safety, "I love you too, baby. I love you too."

Zayn meets Liam's eyes over her shoulders and it's obvious Liam's trying to hide his tears. He grins widely and Liam flips him the bird. Then, there are warm tears in his neck and Zayn pulls back to look at his mum.

"I missed you," she admits, "And I'm really proud of you, you know. Even if you didn't finish university, I'm proud of you."

Zayn smiles gently, swearing to himself up and down that he's not going to cry, "I will finish university," he whispers, "I promise."

Tricia squeezes his hands in response and hands him his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, "Be good," she sterns.

"Yeah," Zayn chokes out. He looks up at the ceiling of the station for a long time then back at his mum, who's still looking at him, "I'm sorry," he says at last, "I'm so sorry about - _everything._ I'm sorry for leav-"

"Hush," Tricia mumbles, slapping his shoulders, "You best be on your way. Miss your train otherwise, Zayn."

She turns to give Liam a hug, one that he yelps at before falling into. He meets Zayn's eyes the same way Zayn met his. They share a smile and Zayn doesn't feel quite so guilty about his mum's forgiveness anymore.

______

New Years is a small affair, just like Liam wanted  - and Zayn didn't have any criteria beyond _with Liam._ Their flat feels different and Zayn doesn't think it's a bad thing or a good thing - just a different thing.

"Right then," Liam announces, "it's 11:45 and I want to have sex into the New Year." He grins at Zayn blindingly and Zayn chokes on his beer.

He wipes his mouth and gives Liam a strange look, "Why?"

"Because, Zayn," Liam sounds exasperated, "It's a new beginning - and it's a new beginning _together._ Don't you see the metaphor?"

"You just want to get off," Zayn accuses.

"That too," Liam grins, "Can you blame me?"

Zayn gives him a long hard look and crooks a hand to Liam and when Liam bounds into him, he wraps an arm and a wing around him.

Liam marvels at the softness of Zayn's feathers, causing warmth to pool like quicksilver under Zayn's ribs, "Holy - " his eyes widen, "These are so _nice._ So - _cool."_ He nuzzles into the wing face first and then promptly sneezes. Zayn feigns disgust, smile pushing up his cheeks.

"I'm allergic," Liam sounds aghast, "I'm _allergic_ to you!"

Zayn snorts and wraps the other wing around him too while Liam squirms to get out, laughing. "It's 11:50 - if you want to get off in time for New Years, we've gotta start doing something."

Liam stills, brushing the back of Zayn's shirt and grinding into him cheekily, "Waiting for you to make the first move, babe."

Zayn narrows his eyes, "I'll take you on the floor if you don't stop."

Liam's fingers catch the holes in Zayn's shirt where the wings are peeking out. Zayn's cut some of his shirts but hasn't cut some of the others. Liam says that that's okay.

"First _go_ and then _stop_ ," Liam teases, "make up your mind, Zayn." Zayn nuzzles into him and flutters his wings and Liam lets out a groan, "Fuck. It's like being fucked by an angel."

"Angels don't fuck you over, Liam," Zayn mumbles into his collarbone.

Liam makes a sound in his throat and when Zayn tires to kiss him, he can't because both of them are smiling too hard, almost fucking _giggling_ into each other's mouth.

"Zayn," Liam mumbles then, "Can you please just fuck me?"

Zayn smiles and his mind goes back years and years and years, "No," he says quietly, words just for Liam's ears (the _I promise I'll do that too_ hangs in the air), "But, I can kiss you."

______

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again to Sanya (stitchedwrists) for creating this lovely piece of art for me - you are incredible and lovely and extremely talented and I love you lots. I enjoyed writing this so much, this fic has just been my little baby for months, and seeing that piece of art just bringing the entire fic to life was so incredible. Thank you so much!
> 
> The art can be seen here: http://stitchedwrists.tumblr.com/tagged/1dbigbang


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